Aftermath
by love.devil.movies.baby
Summary: The war is over, the world is saved, but George Weasley and his family are still reeling from all they have lost. But in the wake of the storm hope remains and love blooms, and George finds the means to heal in an old friend and unlikely lover. Post HPDH.
1. Chapter 1

_The world had ended. Why had no one stopped moving? _

_George Weasley stared in shock at his wailing big brother, unable to believe what he was seeing. Percy, who had just so recently returned to the fold, was screaming with agony and clutching..._

_George blinked, attempting to clear his vision. There was dust everywhere. That must have been the reason, all of the granite and cement in the air was blurring his vision. Percy was just screaming because he had been hit, and Fred..._

_Fred was not dead. It couldn't be. _

_Fred Weasley, his twin, his counterpart, brother and other half, could not be dead._

_And yet the minutes dragged by, and Fred didn't stir. And slowly, ever so slowly, the dreadful realization began to sink in. He vaguely recalled being aware of the others; Harry had fallen to his knees, Ron was shaking, his expression mirroring George's. But all he could focus on was the body of his brother, eyes still open, mouth still upturned in a smile, and utterly still. _

_And then it hit. He was dead. His twin was dead, he would move no more, and George did not understand why he was still alive without him. He heard a sound of the deepest sorrow burst forward. He fell forward to the ground, his knees stirred the dust that had settled there and it wasn't until much later that George Weasley realized that the sound had come from him._

* * *

It was many months later now. The war had ended, and the world was beginning to adjust slowly into an existence that was devoid of evil, or at least of the evil force that had haunted them all for so long.

But for some, the feeling still lingered. Some had lost more than they could count, and no one could deny that the Weasley's could be counted among them. Their friends, Tonks and Lupin, and then one of their own number.

Fred Weasley had died. It was the awful truth, and though time had eased the unbearable pain, the ache remained. George had existed, half in shadow, for half of a year, dazed and confused, waking up every day and wondering how he got by.

He recalled that day in startling clarity. Harry, Ron and Hermione had returned, and together they had sat in silence, isolated from the world. George, though now a grown man, had allowed his mother to hold him like a toddler. The truth was, he had been sure that if she had let go for even a second, he would have shattered completely. Percy could not stop crying, nor could Ginny. Charlie stood stoically, his face twisted in an expression of disbelief. Bill had come in and was clutching his wife's hand, his father was pale under his scarlet hair, and his mother was silent. And Harry Potter who had become like a surrogate brother to them all, was opening and shutting his mouth like a great, gasping fish, obviously wanting to say something, but unable to form the words.

But there were no words for this. The pain was too great, and so they sat, joined in their grief and slowly came to terms with the terrible, terrible truth. The funerals had come and gone, attended in great number by friends, family, admirers and well-wishers. For a while, their store had become a memorial: flowers, candy, joke books, photographs and the like covered the cobbled stone in front of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and owls streamed constantly from their-his, office window, offering condolences. They were much appreciated, but ultimately worthless. Because of all the people who felt the loss of Fred Weasley, no one felt it more than his twin, George.

He was sitting in the upstairs room, the one they had once shared above the shop, staring blankly at the parchment in front of him. It was a detailed outline of several new products, ones that the two of them had been working on before the whole mess had started. George had been staring at this same parchment for months now, unable to take them a step further.

It was too painful. He and Fred had been a team. They worked seamlessly, inventing and improving with hardly any words exchanged, nearly sharing the same conscious. It was entirely probable that their bond was enhanced by magic; they often thought the same things, said the same things, felt the same things and did the same things. It had never been overbearing to have Fred around, they rarely fought and it was never serious. And now he simply was absent, and George felt as though he had been missing a leg for months now.

He sighed as an owl soared through the window. He recognized the small, grey owl at once as Pigwidgeon, Ron's owl. He and his youngest brother stayed in regular correspondence, the way they had before, but now it seemed strained. Their relationship had been tainted, no longer carefree. George realized just how much they had all been forced to grow up in this last two years.

How he wished desperately they would joke again. It used to be second nature, as easy and frequent as breathing. They teased, all of the brothers and Ginny, Harry too. But now the jokes seemed forced and strangled, until they had given up entirely. They all knew why.

One day losing Fred would stop hurting, but today was not that day. George resigned himself to this stark fact and rolled the parchment again, returning it to the place from which it had been taken. He looked up at the energetic grey owl and nearly smiled. It was bouncing around excitedly, nearly flying into his face in its eagerness to deliver the letter. Some things, at least, had not changed. He gave Pig a pat and took the note, unrolling it flat across his desk. He recognized Ron's untidy scrawl at once.

**_George,_**

**_How are things? I haven't heard from you in a week and Mum insisted I write, though I know it's just because you're busy. Anyhow, Hermione wanted me to invite you round to our place. She, Mum, and Ginny have gotten the idea to throw an engagement party, and you know how they are, once they start, there really is no heading them off. Harry will be there as well, obviously, and some friends from school, Lee and Neville and some others. And Andromeda is coming around with Teddy. Apparently his hair has gone half blonde, half scarlet; Bill says it's a laugh to see. You will be there won't you? Everyone wants to see you._**

**_With love,_**

**_Ron_**

**_P.S. Angelina is coming too. She came round the other day, looking for you. She seemed keen to see you. She said she stopped by the shop, but you weren't there. I think she'd be delighted if you showed up. So you had better come._**

George felt a pang of guilt. It had been a while since he had been around to see his family, and he was much overdue. He had found every excuse to miss the last three gatherings. It still hurt too much, to look round the table and to know that though some had joined the family, one place would always be empty. He sighed. He expected it was time to get past that. It would not do to linger on that thought, and Fred would have hit him roundly upside his head if he had known that George had isolated himself these past few weeks. He re-read the letter. This time the post script consumed his attention.

She was coming. Angelina Johnson, former teammate and classmate, friend and of course...

Fred's ex-girlfriend.

George wasn't sure he could see her again. Not after what had happened.

But it seemed there was no getting around it. He had avoided her for a month now, ducking out when she turned up at the shop and making sure never to be home when she visited his apartment. It appeared that she had cornered him. She was a bright girl, it had only been a matter of time. But still.

George Weasley sighed and scribbled his reply back to Ron with a promise to attend and a silent prayer that all would go well.

* * *

**A/N: I have not abandoned my other story, but I just re read the whole Harry Potter series, plus something that J.K. Rowling said about the characters' lives after the books ended and this idea lodged into my brain and it wouldn't get out. So, inevitably, I wrote it down. I know where I want to go with this, so updates should be frequent. Please review if you are so inclined. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for all of the reviews! Here goes chapter two...**

* * *

Hermione Granger, soon to be Weasley, lived in a pleasant flat just outside of London. It was out of sight of the majority of Muggles, and a few other witches and wizards were known to inhabit the area as well. Over all though, it was in Muggle England, a fact that worried George's mother and delighted his father. In name it was the home of Hermione Granger, but George knew, as did nearly everyone but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, that Ron lived there more often than not, and referred to it fondly as "our place" to everyone but his parents. If they knew, Mrs. Weasley in particular, that the young couple was cohabiting, it would be a rather unpleasant experience for all. This was why, though they had only been an official couple for half a year, Hermione and Ron were now engaged.

George smiled to himself. He had just apparated a bit outside of the town and was taking the short, pleasant walk up the road to his destination. It never failed to amuse him that it had taken 7 years for the two to get together, but 6 months to decide that they wanted to spend their lives together. During their school years, it seemed everyone but Hermione and Ron knew that they were destined to be together; the Weasleys (Ron excluded of course) had made a habit of talking about them and coming up with rather amusing plots to get them together. Fred would have been delighted by the turn of events.

But Fred wasn't here now to see them. He hadn't even known they had gotten together before the explosion. George swallowed thickly. Now was not the time to dwell on that. The house was in sight just ahead. It was a modest home, sandwiched between several others like it and built up rather than out. It looked a little like the Burrow, which George suspected was part of its appeal when Ron and Hermione first looked at it. He raised his hand to knock on the handsome oak door but was beat to the punch. Ron Weasley, his younger brother, was grinning brightly at him, skin flushed as red as his hair and clutching what looked like a large glass of fire whiskey.

"George!" he greeted a bit too loudly for the hour, "It's great to see you! Come on in and get a look at the house." Ron stepped aside to admit his elder brother inside. The house was decorated tastefully, most likely Hermione's doing. Like so many wizard dwellings, it had been magically expanded. As a result, the drawing room was roughly the size of a small banquet hall and was packed wall to wall with tables burdened with Mrs. Weasley's cooking and an assortment of Hogwart's friends and family. Immediately, they all closed in on George.

He supposed that this was partly his fault. He hadn't been round to see many of them since Christmas, and it was nearly February now. The hodge-podge of wizards and witches, (and Muggles, since Hermione's parents were present) and joined up to form a sort of makeshift family in the months following the war. They had all been through the sort of experiences one cannot go through without becoming extremely close; and they all relied heavily on one another and kept in close contact.

George had been absent for quite some time and they were now hastening to chastise him for it.

"George!" a normally bushy-haired witch threw herself into George's arm and planted a kiss on his cheek. He looked down to see Hermione Granger beaming at him, looking just as pleased as Ron. Her hair was slicked back in a sleek chiffon bun, and she had donned a cocktail dress in black. Being together suited them well. "We're so glad you could make it. It's been far too long really. We've all begun to miss you..." she trailed off as Ron beckoned her to the other side of the room for something. George couldn't hear her as Lee Jordan surged forward and grasped his shoulders.

"Weasley! Nice of you to turn up!" Lee had cut his dreadlocks and his hair was now cropped low to his head, thick as wool and dark. He too was beaming, revealing two rows of large white teeth. George hugged him.

"I know. It's been busy down at the shop."

"Not turning into a workaholic, eh? The George I knew would have despised that." How George had missed the approach of Rubeus Hagrid, he would never know. Hagrid was wild-haired as ever, towering easily over the guests and clutching a tankard of ale. He patted George on the shoulder, nearly smashing him down into the carpeting. It was a miracle the man had managed to fit through the front door, George thought. But he smiled warmly at him. Hagrid had always let Fred and himself get away with far more than others at Hogwarts.

"How are you Hagrid?"

"Good, good," he boomed, arms swinging. Lee Jordan nearly took a grapefruit sized elbow to the face and just managed to duck away. He mouthed something that looked an awful lot like "he's too damn big" at George before ducking off with Alicia Spinnet, a former classmate, and by the look of their expressions, his new girlfriend.

George made small talk with Hagrid for a while before his mother noticed his presence and smothered him in a hug. He also greeted his father, (a tall, thin, balding man with more patience than his mother) Percy, Charlie, Bill and Fleur and then Ginny and Harry.

"All right there, George?" Harry had asked while Hermione and Ginny giggled over Ron, who was now doing some sort of elaborate dance accompanied by a drunken Lee and Hagrid.

"As fine as can be expected, yeah," It was an honest enough reply. Harry, however, seemed to understand.

"I suppose that makes sense. It does stop hurting so much, after a while. But it never truly goes away." George remained silent, but nodded in agreement. The two men were pointedly avoiding each other's' gaze. If either were to start tearing up, it would put a damper on the festivities. George knew that Harry felt somewhat responsible for Fred's death, and everyone who had died in the war. It was rubbish of course; no one but Voldemort was to blame. But George understood why he felt this way, and offered him a pat on the back.

"Buck up, Potter!" he said in an overly-joyful tone. "Your best friends have finally pulled their heads out of their nether regions and decided to get married. So smile. I think I'm off to indulge in some of the food and fire whisky. I might hit the dance floor. Can't have everyone in here thinking all Weasleys dance like Ron. He looks like he's having a seizure, doesn't he?"

Harry chuckled. "He does look as though he's in pain." Indeed, it was a possibility that Ron _was _in pain. Hagrid had just trod on his foot.

After a shared laugh, George made his escape to the kitchen where he rejoiced in piling his mother's excellent cooking high on his plate. He could cook well enough, but there was something about his mother's dishes that were unparalleled. He settled in the corner to eat with Lee and Neville, sharing small talk and amusing antidotes for upwards of an hour and indulging in what was probably more butterbeer and firewhisky than was necessary. He was just beginning to think that he had gotten off and tonight would be a thoroughly enjoyable evening when a knock on the door sounded around 11.

Ginny tugged the door open to reveal Angelina Johnson. She looked the same as she had that night, though perhaps a little bit older. Her braids were gone, replaced by a multitude of springy curls all over her head. She was still tall of course, though not as tall as George, and had maintained her athletic build. Her arms, well defined but still thin, glistened coffee-brown under the low lamp light, exposed in her dress. She was apologizing to Hermione and Ron for being late when George lost sight of her under the crowd that had gathered to greet her. He contemplated disapparating, or perhaps sneaking out of the back door, when he heard Lee.

"George? Yeah, he's right over there against the back wall. We've been drinking and talking, you should join us!" He slung his arm over Alicia. It was clear by the slight swagger of his step that they had not been drinking pumpkin juice. While the rest of the crowd hovered around, laughing, chatting and dancing, Angelina raised her eyes and looked straight at George.

He felt a funny kind of lurch in his stomach, as though his intestines were fighting to get free. He hadn't seen Angelina since New Year's, and what he recalled of that occasion sent a wave of shame through him. It was too late to flee though; she was making her way toward him.

"Hello there, George," it was apparent that she was nervous as well. Normally so confident, she fidgeted slightly under his gaze.

"Hello, Angelina. How have you been?" he was determined to keep his voice level. He took a sip out of his cup for some added courage, delighting in the warm feeling running through him.

"Pretty good. I haven't seen you since New Year's. I've been 'round to your shop to see you, but you're always gone." She gave him a mildly accusatory look.

"Sorry, been busy." It was a thin excuse and they both knew it. Fortunately, she did not call him on it.

"Oh, well...I'd been hoping that we could talk-" a feeling of dread seared through him.

"There's nothing to talk about." George spat it out far too quickly. Angelina looked hurt; her wide brown eyes were downcast for a moment.

"I just thought, since, you know...Well, perhaps we had better talk about what happened..." she trailed off again. Her eyes were now imploring and George found himself caving. He quickly responded, before she could get the better of him.

"It never should have happened. I'm sorry that it did, but maybe… could we just not talk about it?" The hurt in Angelina's eyes was now evident. George could have sworn a few tears glistened there for a second before she forced them down.

"Well, if you really feel that way, then I guess...I'm sorry too. We don't have to talk about it."

"Good," the moment it left his mouth, he knew this was the wrong thing to say.

"Well," her tone had hardened. George had seen her do this before; the rigid posture, the dangerous gleam to her eye, she wasn't happy with him. He had never been on the receiving end of her fighting stance before and he didn't much fancy it. "I'll talk to you later then. Enjoy the party, George." she dragged his name out in an almost derogatory manner and spun on her heal.

And so, for the rest of the party, he faked a smile while he watched Angelina Johnson, former teammate, classmate and one of his oldest friends, pointedly ignore him. He surveyed her closely for any sign that she had told anyone, but no: Katie and Alicia seemed ignorant, as did Ginny and Hermione. George breathed a sigh of relief. He focused on enjoying the rest of the party.

The engagement party raged on into the night. Had it not been for Harry's muffliato charm, they surely would have been shut down. Under the influence of alcohol and good food the friends and family of the Weasleys talked and carried on, generally making a fool of themselves. It wasn't until near three in the morning that the last of the guests left. Ron made a big show of disapparating out of the apartment, but most knew he would be back before the hour was out. George wasn't there to watch; he had passed out in the spare room.

And that was how he woke up, still fully clothed, several hours later. He wandered groggily out of the bedroom and back into the drawing room. It was a mess. Deciding to cut his brother and future sister-in-law some slack, he cleared it all away with one almost lazy wave of his wand. He and Fred had learned how to clean ages ago. If they hadn't, Mrs. Weasley and the rest of the family would have been subjected to some nasty messes when the twins had been experimenting before their shop opened.

A yawning Ron stumbled out of the other bedroom. "Morning," he greeted. "Did you clean all this up?"

"Yeah," George flopped down on the couch and began to pull his shoes on.

"Thanks mate." Ron began picking at some leftover food from the night before. "Great party, eh?" George voiced his agreement. "Hermione reckons the only hiccup was Angelina."

George's mouth went suddenly dry. "What about Angelina?"

"Oh, I don't know," Ron talked around a mouthful of leftover pudding, "She just wasn't her normal self, you know?"

George did know, all too well in fact.

"Hermione thinks you ought to go talk to her. You're her oldest friend and she seems down. Especially since the holidays. Do you think it was because of, you know… Fred?" Ron lowered his voice considerably.

"We all miss Fred." Ron was regarding him like a bomb that was ready to blow. "But yeah, I reckon that might be it." He finished pulling on his shoes. "I've got to go. Take care mum doesn't find out you're here." he shook his brother's hand.

"Don't worry. She won't. I've got a charm set to alert me if she or dad turns up." Ron looked rather pleased with himself. "Or Hermione does, at least." George waved.

"Tell Hermione thanks and goodbye."

"I will. We'll be around the shop later this week." George nodded, and with a pop, he was gone.

Seconds later, he reappeared in front of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. He trudged up the stairs and into the shower, thoughts of Ron's words floating through his head. Had he really hurt Angelina's feelings that bad? Unbearable guilt filled him, and before he could change his mind, he threw on some clothes, tidied his hair and got ready to apparate to her apartment. He owed her an apology.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks again! I'm on a bit of a creative role, so here we go again...**

* * *

It was clear to George that he would not be able to leave his shop today. He had hurried down the stairs to apparate away, since it was impossible inside, (during the War, many defensive spells had been cast around the shop to prevent attack) and had been met with nearly 30 or 40 young witches and wizards, all clambering to get inside and shop. With a look at the clock, he realized that he was an hour late in opening. So with a resigned sigh he flung the doors open, looking eagerly for a chance to slip away. It never came. The store was crowded to capacity for several hours. Leaving would have been quite impossible.

Normally it was easy to get absorbed in the hustle and bustle of his life's work, but George had found it difficult lately. Today it was impossible. His thoughts lingered on the memory of New Year's Eve, and how things that had already been complicated progressed to disastrous in less than an hour. Even a month later George was unable to figure out how exactly something that was so innocent at first changed so rapidly.

The family and friends of the Weasleys had all been gathered at the Burrow for New Year's Eve. It was a larger group than usual, even by their standards. Nearly all of their friends from school had turned up, and the remaining members of the Order, along with all of the Weasleys (Percy included) and their respective significant others. As it had been a long while since they had been able to celebrate anything, it had been quite the bash. Food, drink and frivolity were in full supply, and by ten until midnight, the couples had all paired off for the kiss. Bill and Fleur were absorbed in each other somewhere in the corner; Harry and Ginny had positioned themselves on the opposite side of the room from Ron and Hermione; Luna and Neville were standing together and shared a brief, albeit awkward peck, and the rest simply found a friend or crush to smooch into the new year.

George had been off in a corner alone. It didn't much matter to him whether or not there was a person for him to kiss at midnight. He was missing someone else, someone who he would never have kissed, but enjoyed great times with. The countdown to the New Year came and went, and with it George counted down the moments until he could make his escape. He was counted on to be the life of the party, as was normal, and he had risen to the occasion, though it was forced. What he desired now more than anything was to be alone with his thoughts. He had found nothing to celebrate this holiday season. In fact, it had only increased his depression.

At ten past midnight, after many handshakes, back-pats and hugs, he slipped up the stairs to his and Fred's old bedroom. It was relatively quiet up here, though the sounds from the party downstairs leaked up through the floorboards. It didn't matter though. George flopped down on his old bed and allowed the comforting smells of gunpowder, fresh laundry and something that was uniquely the Burrow fill his senses. He wasn't crying, but staring numbly off at the ceiling, consumed with memories that only served to sadden him further. He had been startled out of his nostalgia by a soft but distinct knock on the door. He contemplated lying silently until the person went away, but the door cracked open and Angelina Johnson poked her head in.

"I saw you dip up here and was wondering if you'd like some company," she said, almost timidly, a rather unusual tone for her. George found himself nodding. Despite that only ten minutes ago he would have given his other ear to be alone, he suddenly craved her company. Angelina crossed the room and sat next to him on the bed.

"You know," she began. "I've never been up here before, but somehow this is exactly the kind of room I would have guessed you'd have." she had glanced around at the boxes against the walls and the colorful posters and newspaper clippings of Quidditch teams and amusing things in the wizarding world. "I even like the smell. You two always smelled a bit like this, even at Hogwarts. Almost like gunpowder."

"Yeah. Fred and I liked to experiment," he had no trouble at all talking about Fred with her. The three of them had been partners in crime more times than he could count while at school. In some ways, Angelina was like a female Fred. He suspected that was why they got on so well.

"I miss him. Especially now. You're not the same without him are you?" it wasn't meant as a taunt, but rather a statement of fact. George chose not to answer, but Angelina seemed unperturbed. She stretched out next to him, laying her head down on the pillow. They lay quietly for a while, listening to the sounds of the party below.

"You know, I used to love things like this," George knew Angelina knew what he was talking about. "Fred did too. But without him, I don't feel much like celebrating. It doesn't feel right."

She rolled over and turned to him. Wide brown eyes locked on his. "You'll be all right again, George. I know you will." No one had ever bothered to say this to him. In fact, people tip-toed around the subject of Fred, perhaps assuming that he didn't want to talk about his late twin. "It's just going to take some time." She draped an arm over him in a comforting manner, and he found his arm sliding behind her shoulders. They laid together in silence.

"So, who did you kiss into the new 'ear?" he asked several minutes later. He had purposefully left off the Y, knowing that she had been looking curiously at the place where his right ear used to reside. Amused at his joke, she gave him a smile and a slap.

"No one. There was no one near that I fancied kissing. You?"

"Same." he admitted. There was a rather tense moment immediately following this. George couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the woman lying next to him, and he wondered vaguely, when she had grown up. He remembered her outfit perfectly: a black and white polka-dotted cocktail dress, her hair left down and curled at the ends. She smiled nervously at him.

The intimacy of their closeness struck him all at one and George considered pulling back. Her arm around him felt heavy, like she was melting into him. He adjusted his arm around her shoulder, his fingers brushing the bare, warm skin there. It sent a shockwave of arousal through him.

He remembered times like this at school, where he had come dangerously close to expressing his attraction for Angelina. She had been the subject of boyhood fantasies since he was 11. He had thought, perhaps, that after the war, they had finally worn off. But it appeared they had only laid dormant, waiting to rear their head.

Angelina licked her lips, perhaps nervously, and George's attention was drawn to them immediately. He vaguely knew that at some point, Fred had kissed her. It was the only thing he had ever begrudged his brother for. He felt himself wet his own and begin to lean in.

Before George could even register what he was doing, he had leaned down and kissed her perfect full lips, and she had kissed him back, and for a moment the outside world ceased to exist. They were all that was in the world; shut in his old bedroom, locked in a passionate embrace he wouldn't have thought possible a year ago.

It had briefly crossed his mind that he was kissing his dead twin's ex-girlfriend, but he had quickly excused it. After all, they had split amicably, and at the end of their 6th year. Fred never let on that he was hurt or still had feeling for her, and they had all been friends. Besides, right now this felt so right, _she_ felt so right in his arms that he doubted he could have stopped even if he had wanted to.

It was as though sparks were going off onside of him, imitating the fireworks he and Fred had created. They sizzled through every nerve ending, burning through his limbs, egging him on. He tightened his grip around her, drawing her closer. She did not complain.

A plaintive little sigh escaped her when he broke the kiss to draw breath. Her fingers brushed the front of his shirt, finding the inch of exposed skin above his collar. The contact burned like fire, melting away the last bit of his self-control.

He drew his arm out from under him and seized her around the waist, yanking Angelina into his chest. She gasped, but gamely went along, wrapping her long thin arms around his neck. He deepened the kiss, and pulled Angelina under him.

It could have been hours later, but it was most likely minutes, when articles of clothing seemed to vanish into thin air. He may have blacked out for a moment, or perhaps a magic deeper than his understanding took over, because twenty minutes later he found the two of them quite naked, and panting in his childhood bed.

They had shared one final kiss before reality inconveniently chose to make itself known with a large crash downstairs. The sound seemed to jolt George back to the real world, and the gravity of the thing they had just done hit him with the force of a ton of bricks. Angelina was under him, clutching the covers and looking more nervous than he had ever seen her.

"George?" it was a quiet, uncertain whisper and he knew she was placing the ball in his court. His answer would determine how this situation was to be handled.

He stammered. "We should- we should go downstairs. They'll probably be wondering where we are." She nodded, but looked away. He hurriedly stood up and retrieved his clothing, which had somehow ended up clear on the other side of the room, and her clothing (her undergarments swung haphazardly from the bedside lamp). She dressed quickly and avoided his gaze the entire time. He forced himself to stare at the wall as she dressed, terrified that another glance at her would be more than he could handle and they might never make it back downstairs.

"You had better go," She had muttered once she had dressed. He swore he heard a slight sniffle and his heart plummeted a little bit. "I need to redo my hair and it will take a while."

And so he nodded and left, though every instinct in his body was screaming to stay. She had returned to the party just after one in the morning, appearance immaculate except for a slight puffiness to her eyes. No one had noticed and they hadn't had any contact since that night until yesterday.

A headless child ran by, squealing in delight as he frightened his little sister. This successfully returned George to the present for the time being. He snatched the Headless Hat off of the boy, revealing the chubby face of a 12-year old blonde. The next few hours passed quickly in a blur of color and excitement. By the lunch time the shop had made a good amount of money and he left the Verity and the rest of the staff in charge while he headed upstairs to pen a quick letter.

**_Angelina,_**

**_Sorry about last night; I was being an idiot. I'll come by later if you want to talk._**

**_George_**

Her reply arrived around three that afternoon.

**_George,_**

**_I have something to do, but maybe I'll just drop by when your shop closes. If you'll be there, that is._**

**_Angelina_**

He sent back his reply. The rest of the day was spent in dreaded anticipation for her visit, to the point where he nearly wished he had a tonic to soothe his nerves. By closing time, he severely needed one. He distracted himself for a while with depositing today's earnings in Gringotts, but as he rounded the corner back to his shop, his nervousness promptly returned.

She was standing in the doorway, dressed in leotards and tights, her hair in a tight bun, looking expectantly down the street for him.

George thought that even if he had a whole cauldron of Felix Felicis, he would be very lucky indeed to get out of this unscathed.


	4. Chapter 4

George sped up a little bit, trying not to look overly eager. Angelina was staring expectantly at him, her arms crossed over her chest, her foot tapping wildly. For a moment, she reminded George so much of his mother when she was angry that he nearly stopped in his tracks. But he talked himself out of it. She wasn't his mother. She was a grown woman and he was a grown man and they had both made a mess of things and it was high time to deal with it. She raised one manicured eyebrow at him as he approached the shop.

"Sorry. Had to stop by Gringotts. Have you been waiting long?" he held the door open for her.

"Just a few minutes. Don't worry about it." she nodded her thanks and slipped through the door. The last few guests were trickling out now, shooed by the staff. George told them they could go, and they all hurried out, looking distinctly harassed. It was often a challenge to get customers out of the shop at closing. Today was no different. While George quickly cleaned up, Angelina took the time to look around the shop. She had been here before, often in fact, both while they were getting the shop ready and after it opened. But when they were all forced into hiding, she had obviously stopped coming 'round.

She paused before the pink display for witches, inspecting the love potions and Daydream boxes. She smiled, lifting out a package that had a picture of a muscular Robin Hood-type character, sweeping a young witch off of her feet. She looked backwards to George.

"These are still rather popular, then?" she gestured to the nearly empty shelf.

"Yep. Witches love them. I think I'm going to need to make up some new ones though. We've had a lot of repeat customers." He knew they were avoiding the elephant in the room, but he didn't care. It felt like they were just friends again.

"You know, you could probably use a witch's opinion for these," she placed the box back carefully on the shelf.

"I thought about that. There was a witch in particular who gave us the idea, but I seem to forget who it was," he teased. It had been Angelina who suggested marketing products directed at witches, something that had turned out to be extremely lucrative.

She smiled at him. "Yes, I'm wondering where you could find that expertise." They had fallen into the old pattern of teasing each other, something that had been in effect since they had met in his first year.

"You wouldn't have any ideas would you? I find it a little difficult to think like a teenage girl."

"I might have some, yeah, but they won't come cheap," she sat her large bag down on top of a cage of Pgymy Puffs.

"Playing hardball are we? All right, name your price." He conjured a chair out of nowhere and handed it to her, then drew up another for himself.

"How about we have that talk, for starters." she sat down facing him.

"Fair enough. Do you want to start?" He prayed she would.

"Alright. I-erm." She was stammering and couldn't quite meet his eye, "I didn't come up there to, you know, seduce you or anything. It just sort of happened."

"Yeah, I worked that out." And he had.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Since we're friends and all...we're still friends right?" The thought that they weren't seemed to be weighing heavily on her mind.

"Of course. You've been one of my best mates since First Year. That's not going to change." He smiled brightly at her. She managed to smile weakly back.

"Then why, I mean, if we're just friends..." she left the rest unsaid.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I mean, I've always thought you were gorgeous-"

"You did?" this seemed to be news to her. He almost smiled at the happy look on her face. It was best not to read too deeply into that.

"C'mon, Angelina. Everyone thought that. You'd be an idiot not to." It was probably also best to downplay _how_ attractive he had always found her.

She smiled, almost shyly. He could have sworn she was flushing under her chocolate complexion. "Well, I always thought you weren't too hard on the eyes either." Her smile widened and she looked him straight in the eyes.

"Well, you dated Fred, and even though he always said he was better looking, I'm pretty sure we were identical," he said it jokingly, but he noticed her smile falter for a moment. "I think," he continued, "that night happened because we both missed Fred and we let our sadness get the best of us-" He broke off when she looked up sharply.

"You aren't a replacement for Fred. You never were. I wouldn't use you like that," George was taken aback. He realized that was exactly what he had feared. That it was Fred she had pictured, not him that night. He should have known better. During school, she was the first to learn to tell them apart and even when they switched places, she was never fooled. She was looking at him now, a fire in her eyes, as though willing him to understand.

"Thanks," was all he could weakly mutter. He mentally kicked himself for his idiotic response.

"And..." she continued nervously, "I do miss Fred terribly. But not in that way." He looked at her confusedly. "I mean, when we broke up, we were both fine with it. We were just friends. I think we were too much alike. I always thought I needed someone, well slightly different." She looked pointedly at him.

"Oh, well," he cleared his throat, "I'm sure you'll find him."

"I think I already have," she leaned forward a bit.

"Lucky bloke he is. But we'll be, friends right?" He felt a strange stab of jealousy for whoever she was talking about.

Angelina looked at him as though he was the densest being she ever laid eyes on. He supposed he might be missing something big.

With a resigned sigh she spoke, "If that's the way you want it."

"Yeah," he stammered, "That's the way it has always been, right?"

Something flickered in her eyes. "Sure. Friends." She leaned forward and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back, trying to imagine that the flutter in his heart was from relief they had resolved this and not any sort of wayward attraction to her.

"Why are you dressed like that?" he asked when they broke apart.

"Oh," she looked down at her own appearance. "I started taking those dancing lessons, you know? And they're in the Muggle World, and this is what they wear..."

He laughed, "You got to take them then? Good. I bet you're great at it."

She smiled too. "You should come see me then. I would love for you to turn up and take a turn as my dance partner."

"I might make an appearance," he said, "in exchange for something else."

She looked confused. "Like what?"

"I need some help around the store and some new Wonder Witch products. And you think a little like me, but like a girl so..."

She laughed. "How much are you going to pay me?"

"Depending on what you invent, probably more than the rest of the employees." he knew she was going to agree.

"All right then. What time do I start?" she stood up and grabbed her purse.

"Drop by tomorrow at 7. We'll find something for you." he walked her to the door. She turned to him.

"See you tomorrow George." she gave him another hug and a peck on the cheek.

"Good bye, Ange." She spun on the spot and was gone. George went back inside to clear the chairs and to try and ignore the burning spot on his cheek where she kissed him.

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**A/N: Drop a review please!**


	5. Chapter 5

The next few days were some of the best of the year. Angelina had been working at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for about a week and a half and had been like an unstoppable force. George was right in his reasoning; she _did _think remarkably like him. They enjoyed long hours in the office, pouring over ideas and charts, laughing when an experiment went wrong and delighting when it went right. He particularly loved how when she became excited she went into extremely girlish fits of giggles complete with jumping up and down on the balls of her feet and clapping her hands together.

She was reacting that way now, thrilled that they had mastered yet another Patented Day Dream. This one was more complex and all her idea. She told George that what girls would like more than a fantasy about a stranger was a fantasy about someone they already fancied. It was simple in theory: picture the person right before using the product and your crush would immediately become Mr. Perfect. It was easier said than done. That is not to say it wasn't fun to try and get it right. They had spent hours laughing at the botched results. George had tried it while thinking of her and was treated to the mental image of Angelina with a man's body, dressed in a pirate suit. It had taken several minutes to calm himself down and explain to her why he could not stop laughing hysterically throughout the whole 30 minute duration.

It was almost, George mused as he watched her flounce down the stairs, like working with Fred. They were nearly seamless as a team. She tinkered, he came up with ideas, sometimes at the same time they would have the very same thought. She took great joy in these moments. Her face would split into a wide smile each and every time. George enjoyed them too and suspected his facial expression mirrored her. For the first time in many months, work was enjoyable again. He was eager to open in the mornings. But at night, after she had left, he was sadder than ever. It wasn't just Fred anymore. He missed _her _too. Along with the loneliness she left in her wake, he had guilt now.

He wondered what kind of a brother he was. Fred was gone, his grave barely cold and already George desired Angelina. And it wasn't just that. He was forced to face the fact that his attraction to her had begun long before Fred had died. If he was honest with himself, it had started when Fred had asked her to the Yule Ball. He knew it sounded wrong, but it had literally taken her being taken by someone else, his identical twin in fact, to make him realize that he wanted to be with her. But by then it was too late. Friends didn't steal other friends' girls and brothers certainly didn't try. Even if Lee had always proclaimed his love for her (jokingly, he assumed) George had kept his mouth shut, going only so far as to tease her along with the rest of them.

But then again, he had slept with her. And if he was honest with himself, he had enjoyed it.

Something Fred had said in their 6th year kept replaying in his mind. They were in their dormitory and Fred had just told him that he and Angelina had just called it quits. George had been sympathetic but Fred had scoffed.

"We're too alike, her and I. It's better this way, just as friends. Anyway, she's up for grabs now, if you want to take a shot." George had laughed, but Fred had given him a look that was far too serious for his liking. It was almost like he knew. George had quickly changed the subject and they never talked about it again. But he remembered.

Now he was thinking about what it all meant. She and Fred may have been too alike, that was true, but George, though the perfect complement to Fred, was not Fred. He was always the quieter one (in comparison at least) and was a slight bit nicer when it came to his teasing. And when she and he worked together, it was like working with Fred. He was starting to think that maybe Fred and Angelina were right. And maybe, just maybe, the right woman out here for him was the female version of his brother. Maybe she was it.

Those thoughts, however, took him nowhere good. They only increased the guilt and confusion. She surely did not feel this way. It was best not to dwell on it. But there were moments, small, but nonetheless noticeable moments, where she leaned in a bit too close, or stayed a bit too long after closing, or upon leaving, hugged him in a way friends didn't hug. And then there were the looks she gave him…

George sighed. He needed a second opinion on this. Trouble was, the women he knew best might be disgusted that he had feelings for her. That was a scary thought. He couldn't tell his mother or Ginny. He needed an impartial third party.

The answer came through the door with the sound of a tinkering bell. He came downstairs to see who it was. Ron and Hermione were standing near the front door, smiling at him.

"Hey there, George. Bloody cold outside, isn't it?" Ron greeted, flushed as though from a long walk.

"It is a bit nippy," Hermione agreed. Her hair was windblown, but she pointed her wand at it and muttered something, instantly smoothing it down. George smiled at her.

"That's a useful trick." he said, giving her and Ron a hug.

"Yes," she put her bag down to remove her coat. "Angelina taught me. She said she knows what it's like to have curly hair. It gets rid of the frizz." Ron took her jacket and hung it on the hook by the door.

"Hermione and Angelina have been getting close. They talk constantly." He informed George with a curt head jerk in Hermione's direction. "Can't shut them up."

"Oh Ron, we do not. It's just nice to have another girl friend, that's all." Ron nodded, but when his fiancée wandered off to look at something he turned again to George.

"They're constantly talking. But if I ask them what about, she always changes the subject or Angelina tells me to mind my own business. I tell you, I don't understand women." He shook his head. George digested this information carefully. He could talk to Hermione. If she was friends with Angelina, she might know something. And he was sure if he asked her, she wouldn't tell Ron. No offense to Ron, but he had a nasty habit of butting into other people's relationships.

"Angelina says she's working for you now," Hermione said from somewhere in the store.

"Yeah, she's helping me with the Wonder Witch products." He gestured to the pink shelves in the corner.

"It's good that you have some help," Hermione said sagely, examining the back of some product.

"I could use more though. I have to come up with some new products. I need someone to watch the store while I do that." George began getting the store ready to open.

"I could help, if you need it," Ron offered. "I need a job anyway. It'll be a while before I hear from the Ministry and Hermione's no fun. All she does is study for her N.E.W.T.s. Not that she needs them mind you-"

"I've told you, Ron," Hermione's head suddenly appeared from behind a shelf, "An education is important to me! You should support me-"

"Yeah, well, you've already got an education don't you? And I _do_ support you. I just think they ought to just give it to you. After all, we helped defeat You-know-Who, er, Voldemort," Ron corrected, "What do you need N.E.W.T.s for? We've already got our faces on Chocolate Frog Cards." He gestured behind the cash register, where George kept a large picture of Fred as well as several blown-up versions of Chocolate frog cards baring pictures of Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Hermione began to argue back, and sensing trouble, George stepped in. "I could use your help Ron. When can you start?"

"Today sounds cool," he looked warily back at Hermione who had gone back to looking at the back of the box, this time with a rather cold attitude.

"All right then. Go and grab some robes from upstairs for a uniform." Ron, sensing his escape, ran up the stairs to the attic.

George saw his opportunity and went for it. "So you've been talking to Angelina then?" he asked Hermione.

"Un-huh," she said distractedly.

"What do you, erm, what do you talk about?" He tried to keep his tone level but faltered. He cursed himself; Hermione was immediately on guard, looking at him with interest.

"Why do you ask?" she asked shrewdly.

"No reason in particular," he responded a bit too quickly. "Just, you know, we're friends and I wanted to make sure she was feeling alright. I reckon she's sad sometimes."

"Oh, well, she is," Hermione admitted. "But mostly she worries about you."

"About me?" George came over to Hermione.

"Well, yes. She knows you're sad and she hates it. She wants you to feel better. She cares about you a lot you know," she looked straight at George.

"Oh well, I suppose I care about her too. Tell her, not to worry about me. I'm-I'll be fine." Hermione was staring at him intently, as though reading him. George was grateful when Ron charged back down the steps.

"All the robes were a bit too short. Hermione, could you stretch these out for me?" They were much too short, by about three inches. George laughed while Hermione sighed and pulled out her wand, effectively ending their conversation. However, she stole furtive glances at him for the next hour she was at the shop, as though wanting to tell him something.

"I have to go and study now," she reported, picking up her coat (Ron rolled his eyes). "But don't be a stranger George." Her tone clearly held meaning. She kissed Ron goodbye, then the tinkle of the bell sounded again as she braved the bitter wind outside.

"She's mental that one, but I love her," Ron smiled slightly when she had left. George smacked him upside the head playfully, but could not help but think he had found his confidant at last.

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**A/N: Drop a review please! Thanks for all the support!**


	6. Chapter 6

George's mood this morning could only be described as sullen. He was storming around the shop like a rain cloud and Ron was avoiding him. George barked at Ron to get more Love Potions; they were out of them for the third time today.

George maintained, rather fiercely, that his attitude had nothing to do with the fact that today was Valentine's Day. The store was even more packed than usual, particularly the corner housing the witches' products. If one more giggling girl flounced to the counter and hit on him, George was going to scream.

His patience with the gaggle of gossiping girls was quickly wearing thin. He was three seconds away from throwing them all out. But the thought of all the business they were bringing him kept that desire in check. But that didn't mean he couldn't be angry.

Ron had asked him if his bitter disposition was because he was single. He had told the little it off, perhaps a bit too harshly because Ron was not speaking to him now, short of grunts of acknowledgement every few minutes. He would have to make it up to him, George thought, but he was still in too sour of a mood.

His outlook on the day did not change when Hermione arrived clutching a large box of Honeyduke's chocolate and presented it to Ron, who somehow managed to conjure a bouquet out of thin air. George nearly threw up as they kissed. He never took Ron to be the sappy type. He supposed it had something to do with how long he and Hermione had tiptoed around each other. Normally he would be happy for his brother. Today he longed to hit him soundly about the head with that stupid bouquet.

"Happy Valentine's Day, George!" Hermione shouted happily over the din of the customers. Ron gave her a poorly disguised look, presumably to warn her about George's mood. She shrugged it off.

"Same to you, Hermione," George worked hard to keep the sigh out of his voice.

"Got a date for tonight?" she asked. Ron, sensing the impending storm, quickly scooted off to help a young witch locate something.

"No. Don't feel much like going out," he grunted.

"Oh. I thought perhaps you and Angelina would be going out tonight." George mentally cursed Hermione's perceptiveness.

"We're just friends," he said a bit too quickly. "And besides, she has a date tonight." And there was the real reason he was so down today. Hermione seemed to sense this.

"Ah, I forgot. With who?" George knew that Hermione knew exactly with whom, but he allowed her to pry.

"Some bloke from her dance class. A tight-wearing git I expect." Hermione laughed.

"She did mention that. She said he asked her ages ago, and she wasn't paying proper attention to him and said yes without really listening. She was trying to find an excuse but he had reservations and everything. He's a Muggle, I think."

This did not improve George's mood. "If she wanted an excuse, she could have just gone somewhere with me." Hermione gave him a rather reproving look.

"Really George, you only asked her yesterday. That's a little last minute, don't you think?" George didn't answer but had to admit that her point was a good one. "I really do think she would rather go out with you. But if you really do think you're just friends…" she began to walk away under the pretense of going to find Ron.

"Hermione, if you're going to be my future sister-in-law, you're going to have to stop holding out on me," George called after her amusedly. She turned around, grinning.

"All right, George. I do know something. But I have a question for you before I tell you," she looked serious.

"Fine," George said lightly.

"What are you going to do if I tell you?" A little girl jostled by and they were forced to put their conversation on hold as George rang her up.

"What do you mean?" he asked a few minutes later.

"I mean," she leaned in, "are you going to tell Angelina how you feel about her?" George opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off. "Oh, come off of it George. It's obvious you have feelings for her. Everyone else may have been too drunk to notice that the two of you were gone for an hour on New Year's, but I was not."

George had to marvel at her. He laughed.

"Fair enough. But what makes you think that I'm not going to do anything about it?"

Hermione smiled. "The Weasley track record," she said matter-of-factly.

"What?" George's laughter had intensified at the term.

"Well, with the exception of Bill and Fred, the rest of you take ages to work the courage up to ask someone out." George protested but she fired back, ticking them off on her fingers as she spoke. "Harry and Ginny, that only took what? Five years? Ron and I, that took nearly seven. And then Percy and that witch down at the ministry, he still hasn't asked her out and it's obvious she fancies him. Shall I go on?"

George smiled. "Who says I fall into the same category as Ron? And that took so long partly because of you, by the way, thought I won't pretend Ron wasn't an idiot about it." Hermione smiled, but soon sobered.

"Because I know you and you're likely feeling guilty," George's smile fell, "You are, don't deny it." Hermione said, spotting his look. "But the fact of the matter is that she cares a great deal about you. And I think you feel the same. Besides, she and Fred only dated a few months, and it wasn't all that serious-"

"But they still dated," he interrupted her. "And what kind of brother would I be if-" this time Hermione interrupted him.

"You'd be a damn bit happier with her. And you know full well that Fred wouldn't care if you got together, even if he were still here. In fact, I always thought he broke up with her to clear the way for you."

George looked down. "Still, I don't feel comfortable just going for her like that."

"Then why did you ask her out?" Hermione arched her brows, knowing that she had him trapped. George remained silent. "If you want her, George, you need to go get her. Before she starts thinking you don't care at all and you lose her," Hermione said gently. "Is she here?" she asked.

"No. I gave her the day off today." He couldn't stand to look at her all day and know that later that night she was going off with some other guy.

"Well then, I suggest that you think about what I said and act sooner rather than later. It's no fun, you know, waiting for someone you like to ask you out." She looked fondly back at Ron who was grinning at her and coming over to them. George nodded, not wanting to say anything in front of his brother.

"Feeling better then, George?" Ron asked when George watched him kiss his fiancée without complaint.

"Shut it, you, before I have you reorganize the back room" Ron's smile fell a bit. George took pity. "Get out of here. I can't stand to watch you turn into a sissy anymore. I'll see you tomorrow." Ron scowled a bit at the insult, but happily took off the rest of the day.

George spent the next few hours holding down the fort and contemplating what Hermione had said. She was a bright girl, best to take her advice. He sighed. That was easier said than done. He needed to decide how badly he wanted Angelina and whether or not it was worth the disapproval of his friends and family. A sudden, terrible mental image of her with her lips pressed to some other man flashed in his mind's eye. His mind was made up.

He just hoped Hermione knew what she was talking about.

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**A/N: Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

It appeared that Hermione was right about him and the "Weasley Track Record." George had fallen asleep on Valentine's Day fully intending to talk to Angelina the following morning. It hadn't quite worked out that way.

This was due in part to the fact that Angelina was all smiles about her date the night before.

"We went to dinner at this corny little restaurant. You know, the type with all of the red and pink balloons and glitter and the band that tries to serenade you as you eat. It was a laugh." She gushed brightly. "But afterward he took me to a Muggle dance club. It was the most fun I've had in a long time…"

At this point George's mood took a turn for the worst once again. Had he been listening, he might have realized that Angelina was suggesting that they go to the dance club together. However, jealousy raised its ugly head and he brushed her off with some less than polite comment. Her face had fallen visibly, but again he failed to notice. The result of this was a tense working environment for the remainder of the week. Angelina didn't seem eager to engage in conversation and had taken to keeping her head down whenever he entered the room.

George, on the other hand, paraded around in self-righteous anger. He had convinced himself that Hermione was mistaken; Angelina clearly fancied this dancing idiot, whoever he may be (and when he found out he would be sure to send him a curse). It was all a wasted effort. Their connection stemmed from the loss of a mutual loved one and from years of friendship, nothing more. Or so George thought.

Angelina was first to break the silence. She waited about a day and a half before marching up to him.

"You need to stop being mad at me because I have a favor to ask you and I need you to say yes." It was closing time, and he was upstairs under the guise of being buried in paperwork. In reality, he was avoiding her. Angelina knew this.

"I'm not mad at you," George denied cursing himself for not remembering that she could always, always read him like a book. "I'm just really busy."

"You are too ignoring me. I don't know why, but I don't appreciate it. You're my best mate and if you've got a problem I'd like you to be man enough to tell me to my face." George wasn't surprised by her bluntness. This was, and had always been, Angelina's way. Normally he found it hilarious. Today it wasn't so funny. Her hands had gone to her hips, her weight all on one leg. It was female defensive posture at its worst, and George was on the receiving end.

Instead of rising to her bait, he sighed. "What favor did you need?" Her eyes narrowed at him.

"I need two weeks for a vacation. I have to do something important." She still managed to make it sound like a challenge, like she was daring him to deny her. But her request shocked him a bit.

"What is it?" George asked.

"I can't tell you. It's a surprise. Hopefully when you get it, you'll stop treating me like I've got incurable flatulence or something." she smiled a little bit, but kept her face mostly straight.

"This doesn't have anything to do with my birthday, does it?" this was also a contributing factor to his mood. April first would mark his first unshared birthday, a fact he wasn't sure he could deal with.

"It does. And it is my duty to inform you that I have been given the task of making you go out that day. Once the night before with friends, and the next, your mum wants you 'round for dinner." George sighed. Angelina's tone softened a bit. "It'd be a lot easier for me to do this, if you started talking to me again. I know you're sad, George, but you're starting to worry me." George found the strength to look up at her.

"Could you do it, Ange? Go out when everything inside of you misses him? How am I going to act happy?" She dropped down to her knees in front of his chair.

"I know you're sad. I can't even imagine what you are going through." her hand brushed his thigh. "I've convinced them to just do a few drinks and presents instead of a big blowout. They understand. We just don't want you to be alone. Don't shut us out George. Don't shut me out." she touched his face almost hesitantly.

George felt tears prick the back of his eyes. He hadn't cried about this in a long time, but damn him, it looked like it was all about to come out. He forced them down.

"It's just all really hard right now. I'm so confused and…" he trailed off, unable to tell her that it was his feelings for her that were the main problem right and his guilt at thinking about her more now than he thought about Fred.

Angelina stood up and hugged him tight. "I know you are. But if anyone can make it through this, it's you George. And Fred, you know, he's not really gone. He'll help you. And I will too. And your family and friends." He nodded.

"I don't want to sit down at that table and look at the space next to me and know Fred will never be there again. And I don't want to hear the awkward pause when they all start to sing 'FredandGeorge' and then realize it's only George. I don't know how to not share. We shared everything."

She hugged him tighter still. "It'll be ok. How about we make a deal?"

George looked at her curiously. "A deal?" He knew that she was trying to distract him from his grief. He let her.

"Yes. You let me have my vacation days-" he gave a loud bark of laughter and she held up a finger, "and I'll go to your birthday dinner with you." She looked suddenly unsure of herself. "If you want me to, that is. I just thought you'd like, well, some support," she finished somewhat timidly.

"All right. But I'm going to miss you. What am I going to do with myself for two weeks without you?" The sincerity in his words found its way out in his tone. She smiled at him.

"Well, it's not like I'm not going to write. And you've got Ron," George scoffed. She laughed. "And I promise, when I get back, you're going to like what I've brought. It'll cheer you right up."

"Promise?" he assumed his standard teasing tone.

"Promise." She nudged him with her shoulder. "Oh, and George?"

He nodded, "Yeah?"

"I'm going to miss you too." She averted her eyes and he could have sworn he saw her cheeks flush. "Though I don't know why, you friend-ignoring git." she added.

This time the back of his neck flushed. "Sorry 'bout that. I just was sort of sour that you had someone on Valentine's Day and I…well, I didn't."

She looked taken aback. "Oh, well. I really didn't enjoy it too much," she said.

"Sounds like you did," George pointed out, trying not to sound accusatory.

"Oh, I only told you all that so we could both get a laugh at how awful it was. I told you what the restaurant was like, and the whole time at the disco he kept trying to rub up against me and it was revolting. I've even stopped going to dance class because I know he'll be there waiting to ask me out again."

Now George felt very stupid.

"Well, that's better then." He tried to sound light and teasing.

"I was actually hoping that you might stop by one day at class just to stop him from trying so bloody hard," she admitted.

He laughed. "Full of favors to ask today, are we?"

"Well, you know. It's payback for all the things you did to me in school. Besides, you scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours, eh?" she gave his back a scratch to illustrate her point.

"Well, that'll depend on how good of a present you get me," George joked.

"Oh, it'll be great. I promise. So polish those dancing shoes." She stood up and stretched. He walked her to the door. "Thanks, George," she said before she left.

"No problem. I'll write." He held the door open for her.

"And I'll write back," she promised. There was a potent pause. Angelina leaned in, as though contemplating kissing him. George half-considered meeting her halfway, but she pulled back. He tried not to look disappointed.

"Have a safe trip then, Ange," he said at long last.

"Thanks," and then with almost snakelike speed she leaned forward and planted a short, chaste kiss on his lips. "See you for your birthday." With a pop, she was gone.

George found himself looking forward to his birthday, just a little bit.

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**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Please drop one if you haven't!**


	8. Chapter 8

Angelina's first letter came not a day after she left. George hadn't been expecting one so soon. In fact, he had been fighting the temptation to write to her for the last twelve hours. Turns out he didn't have to. A large, tawny brown owl swept through the window of his flat, flew downstairs and straight to the counter he was sitting at to drop the letter in his lap. It then perched on the display near the Pygmy Puffs, eyeing them with a little too much interest. George took a moment to cast a shield charm on his fluffy little creations before opening the seal on the parchment envelope. A small, square, photograph fell out and onto his maroon-clad leg. He picked it up, studying it curiously. It was a photograph, a Muggle one judging by the fact that the lone occupant was standing quite stationary. It was of Angelina, standing in a giant snow bank, bundled against what appeared to be a bitter cold. She was making a sour face, but her eyes were twinkling, and even without magic, George knew she was actually happy to be where she was. He moved on to the letter underneath the photo, but not before pinning it inconspicuously to the register in front of him. He read her loopy handwriting, smiling to himself.

**_George,_**

**_I know it hasn't even been a full day yet, but I had to share my misery with someone. You better damn well like this present, because it is _****_bloody freezing _****_here! I couldn't even apparate straight in; a witch told me the cold could send me into a sudden shock if I did. It is beautiful here though. I took a picture for you. There was no time to bother with magic, so I used a Muggle Polaroid. It's like an instant picture. You point, click and then the picture slides out. My mum and I used to use them all the time. I think me and your dad both are a little loopy about Muggle stuff, but in my defense, I do have quite a bit of their blood. Which might account for my taste in Muggle music (I will get you to listen to it one of these days)._**

**_Anyhow, it's gorgeous here. I wish you could see it. If I didn't hate the cold, the scenery might almost be worth it. I'll send you some more pictures. I'm sure your dad will get a kick out of them. I'm having a nice time here, but don't get me wrong. I WILL be back George Weasley, and when I do come back, you owe me a dance. And yes, it will be Muggle music. So don't give my job away. Oh, and do try to eat something green while I'm gone. Yes, Weasley, a vegetable. Puking Pastilles do NOT count. If you're sick when I get back for your birthday, so help me God, I will hex you into the new year._**

**_Missing you already and wishing you were here._**

**_Love,_**

**_Ange_**

She had signed it with love. George reread the letter twice, his spirits rising each time. She missed him; she had said it herself. He studied the picture again. She looked gorgeous all blanketed in the snow. Angelina hated the snow, a fact he and Fred had exploited in yearly snowball wars. But she looked content here. He marveled at the fact that she could scold him through a letter and manage to remember his father liked Muggle stuff in the same sentence, but he knew that it meant she cared. That was the thing about her; if she didn't care for you she didn't bother with cruel comments. She just ignored you completely. But if she cared about you, she nagged and teased and tore the mickey out of you, but always managed to remember the important stuff, no matter how small. It was her way, much like he and Fred mercilessly teased the people that meant most to them. They had always had an understanding about this that few understood. Generally, they ripped into each other so often in public that most people thought they hated each other. It was just their way.

Or at least it had been, before New Year's. Then they spent time politely avoiding one another. And even when she worked here, they were friends, but something was different. George was glad for her teasing. It meant things were getting back to normal. But then of course, she had never given him her love before, and she certainly never had kissed him. For that matter, he had never seen her kiss _anyone_. She was the typical hard ass. Her private life was just that. But George had always assumed she and Fred kissed, and possibly more. His stomach gave an unpleasant sort of lurch at this thought and he quickly tucked her letter back into the envelope.

George heard a soft hoot. He looked up to see the owl watching him expectantly. He understood.

"She wants a response does she?" he asked it. The owl hooted again, its wide amber eyes still studying him. George looked round at the shop. Ron and Verity were handling it all quite well. It was still early on in the day before the rush started. He had time to write her back. He pulled out parchment and quill, and thought about his response. He had never put this much thought into anything short of this shop or his experiments, but George found himself nearly stressing. In the end though, he decided to just write what he normally would and come what may. He watched his hand trace his barely-legible handwriting over the page.

**_Ange,_**

**_Got your letter. Couldn't go one day without writing me could you? Ah well, you can hardly be blamed. I am that fantastic. I'll agree with you. It does look bloody freezing there. It's pretty warm here. I think I might go sunbathing later. Only joking. I never could get that color you always seem to have. Might be a difference in complexion, do you think?_**

**_The shop is somehow still standing without you. Ron is a surprisingly big help, but don't tell him that. The prat's head might swell even more than it already has. I swear, he destroys one little horcrux or two, gets the girl of his dreams and suddenly we should all bow down. If he doesn't watch out, the little ex-prefect is going to turn into Percy number two. Although, I'm starting to realize there are things much worse than that. Perc dropped by yesterday with a friend from work and it was like talking to a blank wall. At least Percy acknowledges my comedic genius. This bloke may have been half troll for how articulate he was._**

**_Lee dropped by too and I suppose I will have to go out on my birthday. Just drinks and maybe a dance or two mind you. You promised remember._**

**_Keep bundled up. Can't have you freezing to death over there. Especially after we got through a war. I expect the angels would laugh you out of heaven for that blunder._**

**_Hoping to see you soon, and just possibly missing you too,_**

**_George_**

**_P.S. There's an old Pumpkin Pasty in the cupboard and it's gone slightly green. Does that count since a pumpkin is technically a fruit?_**

He finished his letter and sent it off with the owl. The joking had come effortlessly as he wrote, but he couldn't bring himself to write 'love.' Love made it real. There was no denying feelings for someone if you wrote that you loved him. Besides, he didn't want to think about how true of a statement his love would have been. Perhaps she meant it the way most girls did, not in a lover way. It was better not to be the first to say something as serious as that. He hoped that his letter would be enough and that she would realize, just like old times that his jokes meant he cared.

He looked down at the picture on the cash register again and smiled. He was still looking at it when Ron wandered over and told him to wipe the drool off of his chin and come back to Earth.

Instead of responding, George made him restock the shelves. That would teach the little git.

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**A/N: Two in two days! Whoo for me! Thanks for the reviews! Please drop one if you haven't!**


	9. Chapter 9

Desperate to kill time, George found himself at an array of friends and family's homes over the next two weeks. It was the first time in months that he had gone out like this. He hadn't isolated himself after Fred's death, but his former, center-of-attention demeanor had seemed to die with his brother. Partly to keep himself occupied (and his mind of a certain dark-skinned witch) and partly because he knew Fred would punch him if he knew he hadn't gone out in a while, George wandered outside three days into Angelina's two-week vacation and apparated to Ron's place with his little brother.

It turned out Hermione was trying a new recipe for dinner. Ron had pleaded with him all day to come, for "moral support." George had laughed and agreed, but he knew that it had been Hermione, possibly his mother and maybe even Ron's way of coaxing him out of his flat. George thought it was about time he let them.

It was a chilly night, so the two of them apparated straight into the drawing room of Hermione and Ron's place, ears and noses pink from the cold. Hermione blustered out to meet them, an apron around her, her hair pulled back in a tight bun. She looked slightly stressed; a few strands of hair had escaped her coif and were swaying around her head, giving off the appearance of a fuzzy sort of halo. She greeted them.

"Thank goodness! I was starting to worry!" Ron opened his mouth to explain that they had to stop by Gringotts on the way here, but Hermione cut him off. "Harry and Ginny are here as well. They've been waiting for you in the dining room. And I didn't know they were coming, but of course I asked them 'round for dinner, but there might not be enough…" she continued on, ringing her hands. George looked at her amusedly, but Ron, who experienced this sort of thing at least weekly, leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, ending her tirade.

"Don't worry. I'm sure it'll all turn out great." he assured her. Hermione looked comforted.

"Hello, George. It's great to see you," she greeted him from behind Ron, who had pulled her into an one-armed hug.

"Good to see you too," he handed a gift, a wrapped box filled with sweets, to her. She thanked him, then excused herself to finish up dinner. George looked at his little brother.

"So you figured out how to calm her down then?" he asked.

Ron shrugged. "Turns out my lips do the trick. I would have done it ages ago if I had known it was that easy…" George laughed and followed him into a small, but well-decorated dining room. Harry and Ginny were sitting at the table, hands linked, apparently trying to hide their amusement at something.

"Hermione still in a state?" Ginny asked conversationally as she got up to hug her brothers.

"I've got her sorted," Ron said while shaking Harry's hand and pulling up a chair to sit in. George sat down across from his sister and gave Harry a pat on the back.

"It's been a while, George," Harry greeted.

"I know. Sorry mate." he offered no explanation for his isolation.

"No problem," Ginny said understandingly. "we all figured you'd turn up sooner rather than later." George felt a stab of guilt and resolved to visit the Burrow tomorrow to see his parents. "And it's not as though you've been completely alone. Ron has seen you, and Hermione and Lee." Ginny's tone was deceptively innocent, and she, Harry and Ron exchanged knowing looks. George guessed what was coming next and decided to beat them to the punch.

"Angelina as well." he supplied nonchalantly, though interested to see what they thought.

"Yes, she says you've been seeing a lot of each other." This comment came from Hermione. She had entered the dining room, hair back in place and bearing some sort of large tray of meat. She set it down on the table and the warm smell it let off distracted them all for a moment.

"Smells good, babe." Ron complimented. The rest nodded and voiced their agreement. It didn't take long, however, for the subject to turn back to Angelina.

"So how long have you been dating then?" Harry asked between mouthfuls, after Hermione took her place next to Ron and served them.

"Angelina and I aren't dating," George answered easily. Ron snorted in his potatoes. He gave him a warning look. Ron just shrugged.

"Please," he laughed, "She's always around-"

"She works there," George supplied.

"Even after hours." Ron shot back, "and you two are always huddled up about something…"

"We're inventing," George explained.

Ron smirked. "Un-huh."

Hermione intervened. "She does talk about you a lot." She said innocently.

"And," Ginny added, "She's fancied you since your 7th year." Harry continued eating, but nodded as if this all was common knowledge.

"What?" George nearly inhaled asparagus.

"It's true." Hermione said. Ron looked at her.

"I didn't know that," he said, and George felt thankful he had not been the only one.

"Sorry mate, but you're not the best at that sort of thing," Harry teased, speaking for the first time.

"Which is why," Ginny added, "if Ron has noticed, there has bound to be something going on."

"How do you know she's fancied me since Hogwarts?" George asked, still curious.

Ginny looked at Hermione who smiled. "Well," Ginny began in a tone that kindergarten teachers often adopt, "I was on the team, and girls do tend to talk."

"So she just told you?" George asked incredulously.

"Don't be thick," Ginny said pleasantly, "but she, Alicia and Katie always talked, and when you got kicked off the team Angelina was nearly in tears."

"Probably because Harry and Fred got cut too." George said. Ron nodded.

Ginny rolled her eyes and helped herself to a roll. "Yes, I thought so too. Then Alicia said something that made it clear it wasn't because of them." she paused to butter her bread and Ron, Harry and George watched her expectantly.

"Well?" Ron burst a moment later. Ginny gave him an admonishing look.

"She said 'You mean you're sad you don't have an excuse to see a lot more of George?' But then they noticed I could hear them and Angelina just punched her in the arm and denied it."

"So," George began, "that doesn't-"

"Oh come off it." Hermione interrupted. "When you and Fred dropped out she was torn up for weeks. And then I finally went to ask her what was wrong, you know, thinking it was Fred," Hermione's tone had suddenly become much less forceful and she began to inspect her meat, "And she let it slip that she was sick of everyone assuming it was Fred when it hadn't been Fred in a long time and how she wished people would just mind their own business and not judge."

"So what does that mean?" George was thankful Harry asked so he didn't have to.

"Ugh, men are thick." Ginny rolled her eyes again.

"It means," Hermione (who was used to these questions with two boys for best mates) answered patiently, "that she has fancied you for a long time George, but never did anything about it because she was so afraid of what people might think since she went with Fred to the Yule Ball."

"And," Ginny added, "she still fancies you, but is worried more now since the war." George absorbed this information silently, trying to fight down the burning sensation in his stomach.

"Sounds like she has got the hots for you, big bro'" Ron received a slap in the arm from his fiancée for this. "What?" he pouted.

"Leave it to you to simplify it like that. It's all very complicated!" Hermione burst out.

"No it's not!" Ron argued. "Sounds to me like George had just got to ask her out and it will all be perfect!"

"Assuming that George likes her too, of course," Harry added. The four turned to him expectantly.

"Er…" George drummed on the table. "I might. I just didn't know what the rest of you would think."

"Well Mum's wanted you two together for ages, especially since New Year's-" George cut her off by choking on his wine.

"Oh, relax, we all saw you two disappear," Harry patted him on the back and handed him a paper napkin. "It's no big deal. In fact, everyone thought it was about time."

"Everyone?" George wheezed the question out.

"Yeah mate. Lee, and Katie and Alicia and Mum and…" Ginny cut him off.

"It was about time you kissed." George remained silent.

"You did more than kiss?!" Ron yelled across the table. Hermione shushed him. George nodded. Harry laughed.

"Well done! That was more than we expected," Ginny nodded, Ron looked flabbergasted, but Hermione's face was calm. Ginny looked at her questioningly.

"Well I knew," she admitted, "And don't look at me like that." Ginny had made a rather hurt facial expression. "Angelina told me and made me promise not to tell. And anyway, I thought it was pretty obvious."

"You shagged Angelina?" Ron babbled.

"Of for heaven's sake Ronald. You act as though you're a virgin." at this comment, Harry began to choke and George and Ginny laughed.

Ron's ears turned red. "Yeah, but still. Not at my mum's house!" George admitted he had a point.

"It's not like we planned it mate. It just sort of happened."

"How does that 'just sort of happen?" Harry asked.

George shrugged but Ginny cut him off. "Oh mind your business you two. They slept together, get over it." her casual tone alarmed George and Ron as well and Harry suddenly became very interested in what type of wine they were drinking. Deciding now was not the time to berate Ginny on her, hopefully nonexistent, sex life, George changed the subject.

"How come you never told me she told you?" he asked Hermione.

"Well, she thought you wanted to keep it a secret. She thought you regretted it since you rushed out of the room and all-"

"You rushed out of the room without saying anything?!" Ginny slammed her fork down, aghast.

"What happened to minding your own business?" George shot back coolly. The rest of the table however, seemed to share Ginny's outrage.

"Blimey, even _I _know you can't do that!" Ron agreed.

"Do you care about her?" Harry asked, trying to keep judgment out of his tone. George nodded.

"Then you've got to make it right when she gets back. You should do it as soon as possible, after she gives you your birthday gift." Hermione instructed.

"You know what's she's getting me?" George asked interestedly.

"I do. And I'm not telling. And don't ask Ron either," she snapped when George turned to his brother, "She had the good sense not to tell him." Ron looked offended.

"And besides," Ginny's tone was still terse, "You'd better ask her out before I kill you for what you did to her. Honestly…" she began to mutter under her breath. Harry shot him a look that clearly did not thank him for altering his girlfriend's mood for the worse.

"Breath, Gin. I will. I planned on it anyway." this was not entirely true. George had been running through various scenarios for weeks now, but always ultimately scrapped his plan. He felt he could no longer deny the evidence anymore though. He and Angelina owed it to one another to give it a shot. "She's coming to the Burrow with me on my birthday. So tell Mom." he added after glimpsing Ginny's murderous face.

"Good," she said briskly. Harry quickly steered the conversation to Quidditch, a far more neutral subject. The rest, even Hermione, engaged in arguing about team standings, making for a rather pleasant evening. But when George got home that night his mind filled up with more scenarios, each one involving asking Angelina out. He fell asleep with them buzzing in his head, nothing concrete yet. But he now knew what he had to do. And, he realized with a start, what he had wanted to do for quite a long time.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Please drop one if you haven't!**


	10. Chapter 10

The remaining two weeks dragged by impossibly slowly. George received another owl from Angelina, this time declaring that she would be back right on time and that, no, a Pumpkin Pasty that had gone moldy did not constitute a vegetable and under no circumstance should he eat or even go near it. She was supposed to be back sometime today, and George found himself looking at his watch more and more frequently as the day wore on. The shop was jam packed. April 1st was approaching (and with it, George's birthday). Partly because April Fool's Day was the biggest draw of the year and partly to commemorate Fred, George and Ron had put together a wide array of new products and were previewing them today. Young witches and wizards were packed in, some standing so close to one another it was hard to tell where one person began and another ended. Lee, George and Ron were standing on a raised platform to debut the products. Lee, who had stopped in and reclaimed his position as right-hand man, was simultaneously hosting the event and broadcasting it on his new radio show. Ron was demonstrating the newest product, a line of joke candies for enemies that looked like Hogsmeade products but actually caused all sorts of troubles like dying the consumer's hair a horrible shade of puce, turning their skin into a variety of animal patterns and causing hair growth everywhere. Ron had just swallowed Mint Meows, which caused the eater to be unable to make any sound short of a purr or hiss for the remainder of the hour. There was much applause as Lee brought out ordinary-looking school-supplies (quills, erasers, backpacks) that transformed into radios that only you could hear, thereby allowing you to listen to music or Quidditch matches at your leisure in classes. These had been an idea of Angelina's, a fact that made George's thoughts turn immediately back to her.

As the customers roared in approval that tonight, at midnight, they would be able to purchase what they saw before them, George nervously checked his watch again. Angelina had said that she would be in before 6. It was 5:50 now. He expected she would go home to change first. George fidgeted nervously, earning him a curious look from Ron, who mewed his concern.

The crowd roared again; Lee had just brought out Toilet Water, a spin on the French word and a male counterpart of Wonder Witch products. The amber liquid was housed in a toilet shaped container, but actually made the wearer more attractive to the opposite sex (there was also a joke product: a gold liquid in a handsome crystal bottle that repelled witches). Lee smiled brightly as he was swarmed by giggling females, shooting George a wink over his shoulder.

"Bloody brilliant, George. We're going to have to use some of this when we go out tonight…" his praise was cut off by a young witch throwing herself into his arms. George thought Lee was lucky Alicia wasn't here to see it. A hiss at his elbow brought his attention to Ron. He was glaring at George, clearly not amused by the Mint Meows, which George only told him lasted an hour after he swallowed it.

"Sorry, little brother. Can't give you the antidote with all these people around. It would ruin the joke." Ron made an angry sputtering sound and stalked away, George laughing after him.

It was 5:58. A wizard from the daily prophet had corralled George into answering a few questions. At first the topic was mainly the products but then it turned to Fred.

"How do you feel now," the grizzled old wizard was asking, "that your shop is so successful? Do you feel guilt perhaps, that your twin is not here to share it?" George's neck turned almost as red as his robes. He opened his mouth to retort but was cut off.

"What kind of an idiotic question is that?" Angelina had apparated in front of the door and stalked in, her eyes flashing, snow still melting off of her robes. "He'd proud, I expect, that he and his twin created something so amazing. And this shop is a testament to Fred's memory. And that question, frankly, was rather rude." The wizard flushed, but turned to George.

"Couldn't have said it better myself, mate," he grinned appreciatively at Angelina. The wizard huffed, but thanked him for the interview. He posed for a picture in front of the store with Ron before heading back inside. Angelina was now prying girls off of a dazed Lee with the help of her wand and Verity. Lee was forced to apparate home early to change after acknowledging that perhaps he had laid the cologne on too thick.

Angelina was still laughing as Ron and Verity assured George that they could handle the shop for tonight and that he should go out for his birthday. George managed to escape upstairs, Angelina in tow.

"So, how was your trip?" he asked once they were safely locked in his flat.

"It was great!" Angelina was shrugging out of layers now, revealing a simple long sleeved t-shirt underneath. "I got your gift," she continued, "But I want to give it to you where it's a little more…private." George felt himself blush at her words. He could think of a lot of things the two could do in private.

"Alright," he said, snapping himself out of it. "So, where are you taking me?" he grinned at the thought of his birthday.

"Well," he noticed for the first time that Angelina was carrying a bag. She set it down on his bed. "We thought it'd be a laugh if we took you to a Muggle club. Or at least, you wouldn't have prats like that _Prophet _bloke asking you stupid questions…" George laughed. Angelina reached into the bag. "But that means you have to wear Muggle clothes. So here, is an early birthday gift." She pulled a pair of jeans and a casual, green button down shirt out of the bag. "Ta-da" she said with a flourish.

George smiled. "Green, eh?"

Without looking up Angelina responded, "I thought it'd bring out your eyes. Plus you know, with red hair, green is always a nice choice." She was wandering into his bathroom, bag in tow.

"Yeah, Ange, you can change in my bathroom," George shouted sarcastically after her, pulling off his robes.

"Shut up you!" her voice leaked through the door. "I'll change wherever I want to Weasley; you owe me that much." George just laughed. His laughter soon died, however, when Angelina emerged.

It was all he could do not to drool. She looked stunning. Her hair was back in a sleek ponytail, so perfect it had to have been done by magic, she had on black pants that hugged her curves and a shiny gold top. She obviously knew what she was talking about when it came to matching clothes for your complexion. But George didn't think his outfit had anything on hers.

"Wow," he found his lips uttering the word without his permission.

"Oh, well," she smoothed her hair nervously. "You know, the Muggle women like to dress up for the disco, so I thought when in Rome…" she trailed off.

"You look great. I don't think the Muggle women will have anything on you." George complemented her honestly and she grinned.

"You clean up pretty nice yourself," she complimented back. Ten minutes later they were linked arm in arm, walking out of Diagon Alley to the nearby club. Lee, Katie, Alicia and Oliver Wood were supposed to meet them there. Angelina insisted on paying the cover charge, saying that it was his birthday and she'd curse him if he kept arguing.

The club was packed. There were flashing colored lights protruding from every surface of the ceiling, spinning and twirling and likely to give its occupants a seizure. They found the other with little trouble and before George knew it, they were all heavy into a bottle of what Muggles called "Patron," and what Lee and Angelina insisted would change their lives.

George was plenty buzzed as he enjoyed his birthday shots and gifts from all of his friends. Katie and Alicia gave him a handsome set of gold gobstones; Wood gave him an autographed photo of nearly every Quidditch team in the league, and Lee gave him a hearty pat on the back and a promise of a guest spot on his radio show to advertise his new products. George was pouring over his gifts he got when the girls gathered around Angelina, shooting him covert looks and trying to prod her into doing something.

"You ought to ask Angie for a dance," Wood slurred next to him, his eyes trained on a pretty Muggle blonde a few feet away. The girl winked flirtatiously at Wood and beckoned him to her. Her got up straight away. "You tell him Lee," he instructed quickly and was off.

Lee laughed with George for a moment. "Must be the Toilet Water," George mussed.

"Or maybe Wood just has animal magnetism," Lee teased as well. The laughter died though, and Lee took Wood's command to heart. "So when you gonna ask old Angelina out, huh mate?" George looked alarmed at him.

"C'mon, Lee, she's-"

"She's head over heels for you, that's what she is. And I know you've liked her practically since we all met her. Hell, we all did. But you held on the longest. Longer than Fred even." Lee paused to take a sip of his kamikaze.

"She dated Fred." George said somewhat lamely.

"For what, a month? Just ask her for a dance. It can't hurt. And you might get something out of it." Lee winked, but then was pulled away by Alicia and Katie, who was wrapped around some tall, tan, brunette Muggle.

"Just do it!" he shouted over the music as he was dragged into the throng.

It soon became apparent that George had no choice. Wood was tongue deep in the blonde; Lee and Alicia were pressed tightly together somewhere in the middle next to Katie and her boy toy. And George and Angelina were left sitting there, George feeling increasingly more awkward. He looked over at her. She was sipping her drink prettily, her legs crossed and swaying a bit. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off.

"Angelina!" an unfamiliar voice broke through the crowd and with it came a tall, husky looking Muggle in jeans and a rather tight t-shirt. He was smirking cockily at Angelina, who looked shocked to see him.

"Sean!" she said in surprise. "How…nice to see you." She stood up and was immediately crushed in a hug by the boy called Sean. George felt himself become rather hot under the collar as he watched the display unfold.

"Haven't seen you around in class for a while, beautiful. Where you been?" Sean was distinctly cockney and talked far too loud, even for a club. George took a moment to appraise him. He was tall, built like a footballer, with sandy brown hair and tan skin. It took George all of a minute to decide he didn't like him.

"Oh, er, yes. I've been busy-"

"C'mon then. Give me a dance!" Sean ignored George completely and pulled a little on Angelina's arm. She looked over at George, silently pleading with him to do something, but he felt he couldn't move. If he stood up, he'd be sure to curse this bloke into the New Year. He knew who he was: the dance class idiot. And right now, he had his hands all over Angelina.

"All right," she acquiesced reluctantly, "just one-" but George couldn't hear the rest of her words as Sean had just pulled her into the crowd.

Fuming, George sat at the bar until a petite bottle-blonde that was much too top-heavy touched his arm.

"Care for a dance?" she asked seductively. George looked up to see Angelina, wrapped in that bloke's embrace, though admittedly struggling to get free.

"Sure," he took the girls arm. She conveniently led them to a place right in view of Sean and Angelina. George made a show of wrapping his arms around her. Behind him, Angelina's eyes widened to saucer proportions and she redoubled her efforts to get away.

"What brings you here?" the girl was whispering in George's left ear now.

"My birthday," he shouted back. Despite his original intentions, he was beginning to regret accepting this girl's request. Her skin had some sort of sheen on it and was almost sticky to the touch. He longed to pull away.

"It's your birthday?" the girl ran a finger down his chest. He shuddered, though not from being aroused. "Then I think you deserve a birthday present…" She leaned in and planted a wet kiss on his lips.

It was revolting. She tasted like gin and cigarettes and cheap perfume. George tried to pull back but the girl leaned in, trying to get closer. George struggled a bit, trying to work out a way of escaping without having to push a woman. He never got the chance. Angelina and Sean spun into them with frightening speed and accuracy, sending the girl spiraling off balance. George looked up to see fire blazing in Angelina's eyes so brightly, he thought it was likely she might ignite the whole room.

"Having fun?" she asked icily through her teeth.

"You?" he retorted just as coldly. Angelina glared at him, and then turned to Sean.

"I'm going to take a turn with my friend now," she said in a tone that dared him to beg differently. And with that, she seized George's arm and wrenched him away.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" she snarled.

"Having fun on my birthday," George shook off her death grip, and she loosened her hold a bit. "Like you were having fun with that big bloke there," Sean was already dancing with the blonde, looking far too cozy for public.

Angelina rolled her eyes. "I already told you I didn't fancy him. But you have to go get all jealous and-"

"Who says I'm jealous?" George's tone was sharp.

"You may be dense, George, but I'm not. Every time I mention that bloke, you get all defensive and hurt. I told you I didn't want to date him, but you wouldn't even save me from dancing with him. Instead you grab the first…bimbo in sight and grind on her!" it was lucky the music was so loud because their dance was beginning to escalate into a full-blown fight.

"I don't know what you're talking about." George denied.

"You do," Angelina was seething. "And for once I wish you'd just be man enough to own up to it."

"To own up to what?" George was beginning to raise his voice now too.

"To your feelings for me!" She snarled.

"I don't have any!" he shot back before the consequences of his words could reach his brain. Angelina shut her mouth, her expression first one of sadness, then of searing anger.

"Fine George Weasley." She snapped. "Tell yourself that! But one of these days, I'm going to settle for someone like Sean, since you're too thick to do anything about it! Enjoy the rest of your party," she pried herself from his grasp and was off before George could even do anything about it. He tried to chase her, already regretting his untrue words, but she wound through the crowd quickly and disappeared into the ladies' loo. He waited for ten minutes before it was apparent that she was not coming out. She probably disapparated straight out of the stall. George sighed and went back to the bar where Lee was waiting for him.

Lee glanced at George's expression. "Where's Ange?" he asked. When all George could do was looking down guiltily, Lee too, sighed.

"Ah, George, what the bloody hell did you do?"

George wished he knew.


	11. Chapter 11

It was the first time in George's life that he had woken up thoroughly dreading his birthday. Normally, He and Fred woke up at the same time to the smells of their mother's cooking wafting up through the floor boards. When they got downstairs there were always food, presents and family. Not today. It was true, there were presents (they had started arriving last night) and there was likely to be food with Ron, (sent by Molly of course) and if Ron was here, there was family. But there was also the fact that the memorial for Fred had sprung up again, there was no one to share presents or birthday cake with and his best friend was furious at him.

None of these things were motivating George to get out of bed. In fact, he would have laid there all day had it not been for Ron bursting into his room with Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Percy, and a handful of enchanted balloons, all of which were screaming "Happy Birthday" in musical tones.

George sat up and accepted the hugs and the balloons (vowing to get rid of them as soon as possible, they were giving him a headache) with a smile and a few thanks. It was early, before the shop was to open. Ron had spent the night here after working all night and Hermione had brought sweets, butterbeer and a ton of breakfast from the Burrow. They all ate and talked in cheery tones. All the while George hoped that no one would notice anything was wrong. He had no such luck.

"What's up with you, George?" Ginny asked while picking delicately at her bacon.

"Nothing," he lied.

"It's alright if you miss Fred. We all do. But today is your birthday, so cheer up mate," Ron bluntly. Hermione chastised him for his lack of tact.

"Yeah, I expect I'm just missing Fred." and he was. So it wasn't technically a lie.

Breakfast went on, slightly less cheerily then it had begun. George was just beginning to feel better when there was a knock on his door.

"Come in!" he called without really thinking about it, assuming it was perhaps Charlie or Bill.

It was Angelina. She was already dressed in her uniform and clutching a bouquet of neon, multi-colored daises that flashed in sequence. George could have sworn his heart stopped. He had not expected her to be in today; he had half expected her to never talk to him at all. But here she was, smiling, albeit a bit weakly, and handing him the bouquet.

"Happy Birthday, boss," she gave him a small hug. "Hello, all," she greeted the others. "I'm opening now, but I just thought I'd stop up before work. I expect I'll see you all tonight. Are Bill and Charlie coming?"

"We should all be there," Percy answered her warmly. Percy had not missed a family gathering since he had come back from the Ministry.

Angelina smiled brightly. "Well then, I'll see you tonight. Does Molly need me to bring anything?"

"Just yourself," Ginny said.

"And an empty stomach," added Harry with a grin.

"And perhaps a gift for George," Ron laughed.

Angelina joined him, "Alright then. See you all later," she waved and was out of the door before George realized he hadn't said anything. Ron looked after her.

"I had better go and help," he sighed and shoved another biscuit in his mouth, then shuffled out too. One by one, the occupants trickled out of George's flat with the promise of seeing him tonight, until only Ginny and Hermione were left.

"So," Hermione began stealthily. Ginny half-glowered at him from behind her glass of orange juice. "Angelina showed up for work today."

"You know, do you?" George asked miserably.

"Yes, She came over to Hermione's place last night in tears." Ginny said sharply. "And consider yourself lucky it's your birthday or I'd be tearing you up right now." Her eyes flashed.

"What, Ginny's saying," Hermione interrupted quickly, "is that she is clearly willing to forgive you. So I might go and apologize sooner rather than later."

"Yes, please do." Ginny continued to glare, but got up and cleared away the dishes. The girls left with a shouted "Happy Birthday" and George washed up and changed into his uniform.

He hurried downstairs, thinking he might catch Angelina before it got too crazy. Once again, he had no such luck. Between restocking the shelves, ringing up customers, and preventing shoplifting and keeping the place tidy, the entire staff was kept impossibly busy. George was forced to forget the rehearsed apology he had been thinking up since the night before.

If Angelina was still mad, she wasn't showing it. She was smiling at children and customers, offering advice on the best pranks to pull on schoolmates, and answering question after question on the new products. She didn't spare George a glance at all that day, not even when she came in with her arms filled to capacity with gifts and tokens from well-wishers.

"Thought you might want these," she said, dropping them behind the counter before hurrying off again. This only increased George's sense of dread.

It took over an hour to close and clean the shop, and Angelina moved at whirlwind speed. Finally, unable to stomach it any longer, George cornered her.

"Can we talk?" he asked. Ron had gone home to take a nap and get ready.

"I suppose," she finished straightening up a shelf and looked over at him. "What about?" her look wasn't cold, but it held none of her normal warmth either.

"I wanted to apologize," he said steadily. "I didn't mean what I said last night. I don't know why I said it," she looked skeptical. "Alright," he conceded, "I do know why I said it. I was jealous of that bloke-"

"Sean," she supplied. George blinked.

"Right, Sean. Anyway, I was just going to ask you to dance when he waltzed up and I don't know…I just got mad I guess."

"You could have still asked. I much rather would have danced with you," she chastised. She wasn't going to let him off easy.

"I know." he admitted. "I was just being thick-" she snorted.

"Yeah, I could have told you that." she went back to straightening the shelf.

"And…You were right." he stuttered a bit.

"About what?" she was moving away now, using her wand to wipe the windows clean.

"About me caring about you." George blurted. "I do care. A lot." he finished, his heart nearly bursting out of his chest.

It took Angelina a while to respond. She walked behind the register and looked at something. "You put my picture up." she said easily. "The one of me in the snow."

"Yeah," George moved toward her. "I needed to see you and you weren't here so…" he gestured lamely to the photo, mentally smacking himself for his response.

"Aren't you wondering what I brought you?" she asked suddenly, her brown eyes locking on his.

"Actually," he chuckled nervously, "I'm wondering why you're even talking to me. I thought for sure you wouldn't want to see me again." Angelina smiled slightly, but waved her hand.

"Please. George, how many times did you irate me in school with your pranks and jokes? And when did I ever not talk to you?" she had a point.

"But this one was slightly different. I never said anything like that at Hogwarts."

She looked at him seriously. "No. But I knew you didn't mean it. I mean," she smiled a bit, "my picture is taped to your cash register." George laughed. She continued. "Besides, I know it's been rough for you lately. And your birthday, well, it can't be easy."

"So you forgive me?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah. I guess so. Besides, I promised to go with you to the Burrow tonight, and you can't go back on a promise." she sounded serious, but her eyes were sparkling with slight mirth.

"Thanks for understanding, Ange. You always understood me." she flushed slightly, but smiled.

"Do you want your gift, birthday boy?" she asked. George thought that her forgiveness was a gift in itself, but he nodded. "Alright, close you eyes," she instructed, reaching under the counter for something. He obeyed. He heard something scrape across the counter. It sounded heavy. "You can look now," she said.

George opened his eyes and saw a large, rectangular object wrapped in brown butcher paper.

"Open it," she was smiling brightly now. George reached forward and gently tore the paper off the corner. It was a large picture frame with ornate carvings. Curious, he pulled the paper off completely. At first he thought he was looking in a mirror, but the occupant of the photo smiled and winked at him.

"Long time no see, twinsy." George gasped. Fred was staring back at him cheerily, sitting in the portrait, eyes twinkling.

"Fred?" he breathed.

"Of course, you dolt. I was wondering if any of you would get around to making me a portrait. Angelina had to do it. And she's not even family." Fred mock chastised. "Anyhow, happy birthday. You're older than I am now."

"I was always older than you," George fired back, a smile splitting his face.

"Pah," Fred scoffed. "by what, three minutes? Now you have months on me." George felt his eyes start to well up.

"I miss you, Fred." he said.

Fred's smile widened. "Of course you do. I miss you too. Heaven's not the same without my partner in crime. But don't go dying anytime soon. You've got to live for both of us now. Expand the shop, get married, babies, the whole thing." he looked at his twin sternly.

"Of course," George agreed. "Angie's been helping me in the shop. And Ron as well."

"Ickle Ronnykins?" Fred asked, impressed.

"Yeah, he's going to be an Auror soon. Imagine that. Him and Harry. Hermione is in the Ministry as well."

"Wow, I'm going to have to talk to them all." Fred said.

"I'll tell them you're here." George promised.

Fred scoffed again, but this time at Angelina. "You didn't tell him?" he asked accusingly. George had almost forgot she was here, but she was smiling, her eyes shiny.

"I had three done," she explained to George. "One for here, one for the Burrow and one for Hogwarts, so he can travel in between," upon seeing George's expression, her smile widened. "McGonagall's agreed to hang it in the castle. So he can wreak havoc for centuries if he wants to." Fred laughed.

"And when we're reunited, George, the artist said he can add you too. But that's a long way off, right?"

"Right," George agreed.

"But for now, I suggest you get going. Mum will hate it if you're late. But before you do that, I think you have someone to thank." Fred's painted eyes landed on Angelina. "And I'll even walk out of the frame so you can do it alone." He looked at George pointedly and even though it was not Fred in the flesh, George heard his telepathic message as clearly as though he'd been alive.

"Angelina," George started, watching Fred slip away out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes," she wiped her eyes hurriedly.

"Will you go out with me?" her face split into a giant smile.

"Yes, you twit. I will." George pulled her in for a hug while laughing. "Took you long enough," she mumbled into his robes.

Instead of answering, George pulled her face to his and kissed her with months' worth of repressed passion. It was the best birthday he'd had to date. And he hadn't even gone to the Burrow yet.


	12. Chapter 12

George was lying on his back on a couch in the Burrow's living room. He was enjoying himself remarkably more than the last time he had been laying on this couch, newly earless and bleeding. This time he was merely stuffed nearly to splitting with his mother's cooking. Other members of his family were sprawled around the room in a similar fashion. Charlie was laying over the back of the couch George was on, Bill and Fleur were snuggled in a chair near there, Fleur stroking her belly, which she had revealed only an hour ago was full with child, not birthday cake; Ginny and Harry shared the other couch with Ron and Hermione; Percy and his father and mother were chatting animatedly on the ground near the coffee table. And Angelina was sitting near George's head, holding his hand and smiling at him.

George was perfectly aware that the rest of his large family was stealing glances at the two of them and smirking knowingly. He didn't care. Apparently, neither did Angelina. She had taken all of their teasing in good stride, even teasing back on occasion (George's favorite moment at dinner was when she told Percy not to talk when he had yet to ask out the witch in his office who clearly fancied him). She was full too, though not nearly as much as he was. She was chatting in low tones with the rest of the room, and the portrait of Fred, now hanging above the mantel and talking animatedly. Molly had been beyond thrilled when Angelina handed them the gift, and the rest of the family went through various stages of stunned, excited and then extremely thankful before they got into a mild argument as to where to put him. They had decided the kitchen was the heart of the house, and Fred should therefore be placed there. However, for now he was leaned on the mantel place in the living room. No one objected; they couldn't quite bare to part with him and the kitchen was an uncomfortable place to sit.

Angelina was laughing at something Ginny said now, her face split into a bright smile, revealing rows of straight white teeth.

"So he just asked you out like that?" Ginny asked incredulously after Angelina related the tale of a few hours ago to her. Harry laughed along with Ron.

"That takes cheek," Ron complimented.

"Well, we know he has plenty of that," Percy interjected. Normally it would have been pompous, but he was giving George an almost admiring smile. George returned it.

"I for one, think it's about time," Molly said, beaming. "Sorry Fred, dear. But I always thought that she and George made the better match."

"No problem, mum," Fred's portrait grinned cheekily. "I thought so too. George was just too rubbish with women to ask her out then," George objected.

"I wasn't rubbish with all women," he protested, "Just the important ones," he winked up at Angelina, who blushed slightly. The talk turned to Hermione and Ron's impending wedding and Fleur's pregnancy. George half listened, contently digesting layers of cake and ice cream.

"Want to take a walk,' he whispered to Angelina when Ron slipped up and said something that raised Molly's suspicions.

"What do you mean you left your clothes at Hermione's place? Why were your clothes there?" Ron flushed scarlet as Hermione hastily fabricated an excuse. Molly appeared to be unappeased and so Arthur and Harry stepped in to smooth over the situation. George didn't fancy being around for the impending blowout. Angelina tore her eyes from the fight and looked down at him.

"Love to," she said. The two peeled themselves off the couch and snuck silently out of the room and into the Burrow's garden. The moon shone brightly on the horizon and gnomes peeked out at them curiously. George ignored them as he walked hand in hand past the low garden wall and into the surrounding orchard.

"Sorry about all that," he apologized, "My family is a bit mental."

Angelina scoffed. "Please. I love your family. And just wait until you meet mine. We're equally as loud, and there are less of us." she laughed and George joined in. "Besides, I'm having fun," she squeezed his hand warmly. He smiled at her.

"You know," he said when they were nestled among the trees. "I believe that I owe you a dance."

"Indeed you do, Weasley," Angelina played along sportingly. "And to a Muggle song."

George nodded somberly. "And luckily for me, I happen to know who your favorite Muggle singer is. An American to boot," Angelina smiled unabashed.

"He's a musical genius. I'll get you liking him, just wait." George laughed.

"We'll see. How about that dance first?" he held his arms out in classic ballroom form. Angelina smiled.

"There's no music George." She admonished but took his hands anyway.

"Not yet," George let go of her to reach in his pocket and pull out an ordinary looking quill. He stuck it into the ground like a flag. Then he pulled out his wand and with a wave, a slow, sweet melody filled the orchard. Angelina looked stunned, and then smiled. "May I have this dance, M'lady?" George mock bowed.

"Of course, Good sir," Angelina took his hand again. He swayed her gently to the music, feeling her heart beat against his chest. Her head was resting on his shoulder and the warm smell of vanilla wafted up from her dark hair. "How did you know this is my favorite song?" she asked as the second verse began.

"I did my homework," he dipped her. Angelina laughed, then sang quietly.

"So listen to my heart, lay your body close to mine, let me feel you with my dreams, I will make you feel alright…"

"And baby through the years, gonna love you more each day, So I promise you tonight that you will always be the lady of my life." George chimed in, more seriously than he normally would have sung. Angelina looked up at him.

"I use to dance to this with my mum and dad when I was really little." She said into his neck.

"Your dad mentioned that when I owled him last night." George said lightly.

"What?" she jerked up, nearly banging her head on his chin. George just twirled her.

"Well, I needed a fool-proof way to apologize after my little stunt," Angelina rolled her eyes, "And I figured I'd ask the people who knew you best. Your dad said that you loved Michael Jackson, especially this song. So, I decided every couple needs a song right?" Angelina raised an eyebrow. George continued, unabashedly, "Want this to be ours?" For a moment, only the sounds of Michael Jackson telling them that he would love his girl until they were old and gray could be heard. Then Angelina smiled.

"I would love for this to be our song," George pulled her closer and kissed her.

"Then our song it is," he agreed.

"Are you going to love me until we're old and gray?" she asked teasingly.

"And forever after that," George said seriously. Angelina's mouth dropped open and her eyes got unusually shiny.

"Stop that," she admonished.

"Stop what?" George was confused. Had he said something wrong?

"Stop saying the perfect thing. You're turning me into a sissy, Weasley," a tear trickled down her cheek as she said this, but she was smiling.

"Can't do that, now, can I?" he grinned and wiped the tear away. "But in my defense, you've got me out here slow dancing with you to Muggle music. _American_ Muggle music. So I reserve the right to say corny, lovey-dovey things." Angelina laughed.

"Alright, as long as you know I'm likely to get all sappy when you do them." the music ended, but they still rocked back and forth.

"Deal. I'll try to say them often. It's worth it to see you get all girly," she smacked him in the chest lightly.

"Hey, I can be girly," she protested.

"Oh yeah?" he challenged.

"Yeah. I was pretty girly on New Years Eve. And for my first shot at it, I think I did pretty well." she grinned seductively.

"That was your first time?" she nodded. "Wow. I would have never guessed." George was a little shocked, but it made sense. He smiled. Angelina had chosen him for her first time and now again for a boyfriend. It made him feel pretty damn good.

She shrugged, "I hid it pretty well. But I've been thinking. You owe me another shot. You know, this time without alcohol or running out of the room," George blushed. "So how about," her tone was faux business-like, "every time you get romantic, we give this me being girly thing a shot," she looked up at him, her intent clear. George blushed darker.

"We should go tell my family goodbye," he said hurriedly. Angelina laughed.

"I think we can make this work, George Weasley," she leaned up to kiss him.

"I _know_ we can make this work, Angelina Johnson," he whispered against her lips.

They met in another kiss and George could not help but feel that though this was the best birthday he ever had, many more good ones were to come.

* * *

**A/N: And that my friends, is the end! I hope you enjoyed it! You guys were great with reviewing and reading! I appreciate it! This story was a blast to write. Oh, and I do not own the Michael Jackson song "Lady of My Life," but I do love it and suggest everyone listen to it. **


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